Efiathe's Champion
by Mazkeraide
Summary: The story of Ebekah and Camaris. On hiatus for a few more weeks until I'm done rereading the trilogy. SPOILERS for To Green Angel Tower. R
1. The King's Engagement

This is my first fanfic EVER so please read and review kindly :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn_ and never plan to. I don't even have copies of the books, so if my facts are fuzzy it's because the only source I have on hand is a copy of _To Green Angel Tower_.

Sorry if the personalities are a little off!

Enjoy!

**1: The King's Engagement**

It was a warm summer's day, a week or so after Midsummer, and King John Presbyter was holding a banquet.

This, in and of itself, was hardly unusual. But at this banquet, the nobility of Erkynland would meet Prester John's intended bride.

Rumors plagued the city of Erchester. It was said she was beautiful. That she was a princess. That she was the youngest daughter of a poor baron. That she had Sithi blood. Few things were known for certain: she was very young, younger by a score of years at least than the king; that she was Hernystiri; and that Prester John was marrying her for love, not politics.

As evening fell, the dining hall of the Hayholt was overflowing with visiting and resident nobility. At the high table with the king sat his knights, most notably Camaris-sá-Vinitta, his brother Leobardis, Sir Tallistro, Sir Fluiren of Nabban, and Duke Isgrimnur of Elvritshalla. Present also were Towser, the king's jester, and Doctor Morgenes. Seated beside the Dragonbone Chair, which had been brought in specially for this occasion, was a very young woman, hardly more than a girl, and it was upon her that the eyes of the multitude were fixed.

Serving-boys rushed in and out of the hall, filling goblets with wine, clearing away empty serving platters, refilling empty wine goblets, and restocking the tables with venison, mutton, boar, swan, and all manner of well-prepared meat- all under the watchful eye of the new Mistress of Chambermaids, a woman named Rachel, who was already nicknamed "the Dragon" for her strictness about order. Though few, if any, of the guests saw her, her presence was felt in the precise, efficient, and expedient manner with which the servers worked as she watched from the shadows.

At last Prester John rose from the Dragonbone Chair. All attention, until now half-focused on him, was riveted to the high table at this slight motion. The king did not have to call for his guests' attention or tap his goblet. For once, silence fell instantly.

"My lords and ladies," the king declared, "the moment for which you have long been waiting has arrived. I present to you Ebekah, my betrothed."

The young woman next to the king stood. She was lovely. Long dark curls fell down her back gracefully, contained only at the top by a jeweled hairnet. Her eyes were pale blue as the sky on a hot summer's day, and her skin was flawless. The assembly cheered her loudly, so that John had to raise his voice to be heard.

"We shall be wed at Aedonmansa in Saint Sutrin's Cathedral," he said. Again the crowd burst into applause. King John sat, taking Ebekah's hand in his own under the table. "See?" he whispered in her ear, "they love you!"

_Or they are happy that their king is marrying at last, _thought Ebekah. Indeed, the king was showing signs of age. Wrinkles were appearing on his face, and hair and beard were streaked with gray, which shone silver in the torchlight. Still, he was a handsome man, and Ebekah had done well to marry him.

But even as she thought this, her eyes flicked of their own accord to the mighty Camaris.


	2. To Fetch a Bride

This chapter is a flashback chapter...I would have been more specific with the time but the only months I remember are in fall...It's March, okay?

Again, I apologize for personality lapses.

Read, enjoy, and **_REVIEW_** please.

Mazzie

* * *

**2: To Fetch a Bride**

_Earlier: that spring._

It was a measure, Camaris thought, of the king's dedication to his marriage that he sent his greatest knight to bring her to the Hayholt.

The roads had finally cleared of snow enough to travel- and to transport a lady. Camaris and Prester John's honor guard had set out as soon as the roads were passable for Hernysadharc. In reality, the honor guard alone would have been enough, but John had insisted Camaris should go.

"I see you mooning about the castle like a caged bear," he had said, laughing. "I think the journey would be good for you. Get you out in the fresh air."

Camaris had agreed, of course. John was his king, after all. But, he brooded as his horse broke the ice of another frost-rimed puddle, what John couldn't realize was that Camaris longed for the relative warmth of Nabban during the cold winter of Erkynland. Instead, John sent him _farther_ north, to Hernystir, of all places. Perhaps it wasn't quite the Frostmarch, but it might as well be, Camaris though, his hot breath freezing in the air in front of him. Damn this miserable cold!

The weather was little better when at last they reached Hernysadharc. It was drizzling rain, chilly, and damp, and to top it all off, a thick blanket of fog lay over everything. Camaris and the soldiers were happy to be let into the palace.

After he had bathed, rested, and changed into fresh clothes, Camaris was called to an audience with King Llythinn.

"I believe," the Hernystiri king said, "that you have come to collect my niece."

Camaris inclined his head slightly, then said aloud, "Yes. King John sent me to collect his bride."

A young woman entered the room through a side door and joined the king on the dais. "My niece, Efiathe," Llythinn introduced her, "only daughter of my sister. Normally," he added, smiling slightly, "I would send a legion of my own men with you to Erkynland, but I trust her in the hands of the world's greatest knight."

Camaris forced himself to smile. How he hated that title! "I thank you, sir, for your kind words and your trust," he said evenly. "I promise to take good care of your niece."

At his words, the girl looked up at him. Their eyes locked, and the chemistry between them was all but palpable. Camaris was shocked- he had not expected such beauty. Efiathe was struck by the strength of this reluctant legend- and intrigued by him. Realizing that she was staring, she glanced back at her feet, blushing furiously.

After what seemed like an eternity, King Llythinn said, "You should go prepare to leave," and Efiathe left, silently thanking her uncle for rescuing her.

Camaris excused himself, saying that he needed food and rest before they began the journey back the next morning.

* * *

The men were up, packed, and prepared to leave with the dawn. Unfortunately, Efiathe was not, and so Camaris was sent to find her.

Irritably he patrolled the gardens. It was still cold and foggy, and he wanted to head back to warmer Erkynland as soon as he could.

He found her by accident. He had wildly turned a corner when he heard her voice. He couldn't understand what she was saying, so he crept closer. Another voice spoke.

"I don't want you to leave, Efiathe!" it said. A younger boy, little more than a child.

"We'll still see each other, Lluth," Efiathe said, laughing slightly. _So_, Camaris thought, _she is with the king's heir._ "Getting married isn't dying," she continued. "I can visit."

"What if something happens to you?" Lluth asked, tears in his voice.

"Nothing will happen. Sir Camaris is taking me back to Erkynland, and he has promised to protect me."

Lluth's voice held tones of amazement. "You met Sir Camaris?" he asked incredulously. "What's he like?"

"Well," Efiathe said, then paused as though thinking. "He's very tall, the tallest man I've ever seen. And he looks quite strong, though I don't know about that. And he's very handsome," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Efiathe!" Lluth scolded gently. "You're marrying the king, not his champion!"

"I know that!" Efiathe retorted defensively. "I'm only stating a fact."

Suddenly realizing that he was eavesdropping, Camaris entered the garden purposefully. Efiathe sat on a bench beside her cousin, but rose when she saw him.

"It's time to go, my lady," Camaris said softly.

Lluth stood too, and the cousins embraced. Camaris was amazed that the prince could look so small when he topped Efiathe by at least three inches. Finally, Efiathe walked to him, then turned back to her cousin.

"I'll come visit next summer," she said, smiling.

Lluth nodded silently and looked at the ground. Camaris thought it best to leave him to his grief. He led Efiathe to where her horse was waiting. She was no delicate beauty: she had insisted on going on horseback instead of riding in a carriage.

"You heard, didn't you?" Efiathe asked suddenly when they were well outside the gates of Hernysadharc.

Embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping, but unable to lie, Camaris nodded. "I did not want to disturb you, my lady," he said.

She simply watched him, then looked away and spurred her horse on. Camaris watched her go, bouncing slightly in the saddle.

He _was_ doing his duty by the king, wasn't he? _Of course,_ Camaris reasoned. Prester John had asked him to bring his bride to the Hayholt, and he was doing just that. So why did he feel like he was committing an immense betrayal?


	3. The Journey Back

**Yay chapter 3!!**

This one's actually a pretty decent length yay! I finally got some research done so also yay!!

This is another flashback chapter, in case you didn't pick that up.

Hope you enjoy! READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!

the Maz

**Chapter 3: The Journey Back**

Although really it wasn't, the journey back to Erkynland seemed much shorter than the journey to Hernystir.

The weather was warmer, but only slightly, and hardly pleasant. It scarcely stopped raining for more than an hour, and the rain was cold.

Efiathe was beginning to regret her decision against a carriage. Her hair was soaked and seemed to serve only to channel rainwater from her head to her face. She had tried putting it up, but that only allowed cold drops to run down her back, and that was even more unpleasant, so she resigned herself to looking like an idiot blinking water out of her eyes.

The only good that came out of the journey, as far as Efiathe was concerned, was her growing friendship with Camaris. After their awkward confrontation on the day they had departed, she had been afraid he would refuse to speak with her again. She wasn't entirely sure why that was such an awful prospect to her, but she supposed it was because she was so lonely.

Luckily, Camaris seemed as eager as she did to forget the events of their departure. He had actually approached her. _Granted,_ Efiathe rationalized, _I was weeping._ She had woken that morning from a dream of being home, disoriented, and once she had remembered where she was, a wave of homesickness had overcome her. As they were riding in the rain she had wept, praising Brynioch for the rain which hid her tears.

Not well enough, however. Camaris had noticed and ridden up beside her.

"Homesick, my lady?" he had asked, and she had burst out in sobs.

Camaris had remained beside her for the rest of the ride that day, consoling her with tales of his own home in Nabban and the way he himself had once wept to leave it. When at last they stopped at an inn, Efiathe felt much comforted and, for whatever reason, quite pleased with herself. Camaris had come to _her_ for conversation, not the other way around. She was proud to be felt worthy of the attention of such a legendary figure and humbled by his own humility. Her dreams that night were not of Hernysadharc, but of Camaris.

* * *

With unexpected boldness, Efiathe leveled her horse with Camaris' and began a conversation.

"Sir Camaris," she said, "tell me about your sword." When he shot her a questioning glance, she added, "I've heard many stories about it, but I want to know from you." She realized as she spoke how childish she sounded, and blushed. Damn her blushing! Such a babyish habit.

"Well," Camaris began, "its name is Thorn, and it was forged from a fallen star in the days of the Imperators."

"So old?" asked Efiathe, curiosity mastering her will.

"Yes, it is quite old," Camaris said, his eyes glittering with a repressed smile.

"Is it- is it magic?"

"In its way. It has a mind of its own."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Here," Camaris said, drawing Thorn and proffering it. "See for yourself."

Efiathe took the hilt and all but fell of her horse. "It's so heavy!" she gasped. "You must be incredibly strong to carry it."

Camaris laughed and took the sword, hefting it easily. "Try again," he said, holding it out to her again, "but this time with me."

Nervously Efiathe took the hilt again, her small hand behind Camaris' much larger one. The sword was light as air in her hand, and she knew that was not possible.

"How..?" she asked, amazed.

Camaris sheathed his sword. "It didn't want you to wield it, and so it was heavy for you. But when it wants to be wielded it is very easy to use."

He nodded to her and rode forward to check with the advance guard, leaving Efiathe to marvel at his sword, and at the way her fingertips still tingled from where they had brushed his hand.

* * *

They arrived at the Hayholt the second week of Avrel. They were heralded by trumpets, though the trumpeters did not seem happy to be out in the rain. As hundreds of people gathered to gawk, Efiathe became uncomfortably aware of her disheveled, wet hair and her travel-stained gown. _How must I look to them, _she thought, _their future queen arriving soaked, dirty, and without a carriage?_

Camaris rode at her side, a fact of which Efiathe was uncomfortably aware. Seemingly aware of her discomfiture, he leaned over and said softly, "Don't worry. Once they see you in full regalia they'll forget their first impression. And they'll like you for not seeming aloof."

Comforted more by his presence than by his words, Efiathe sat a bit straighter on her horse, smiling. She was able to ride confidently through the streets of Erchester and into the Hayholt. It was only when she stood before the king that her confidence crumbled.

He surveyed her carefully, as if she were a horse he was as yet unsure he wanted to purchase. She stood very still, her eyes fixed on a tapestry on the opposite wall. As he circled here, she was acutely aware of her every flaw- her slightly crooked nose that she had broken in a fight with Lluth when she was nine; the mole near her collarbone; the nails she had bitten to the quick from nervousness the night before. She wished desperately that she had been able to clean up before meeting her betrothed, but still she remained unmoving until Prester John was done.

"She very beautiful, isn't she," the king asked Camaris, who had insisted on coming.

"Quite," Camaris replied noncommittally.

"Of course," the king continued, ignoring Camaris' bland comment and speaking this time directly to Efiathe, "you'll have to be baptized before we wed. I can't, as a god-fearing man, wed a heathen!"

_Baptized?_ Efiathe thought, outraged. _Heathen?_

John wasn't paying much attention to her, but Camaris noticed the slight set of her jaw, the clench of her fist, as she contained her rage.

"A formality only, my lady," he said quickly. "You'd have to be baptized, and possibly attend a few religious ceremonies as queen. But you can still worship your gods in private." He looked at his king for verification. John nodded.

"She'll have to take a good Aedonite name, too, of course," John added. "And that _can't_ be a formality."

Efiathe could not contain her anger any longer. "Take a new name?" she burst out. "What's wrong with my name? Is it not enough that I come and marry you?" Her cheeks were flushed, but with anger, not embarrassment.

"If I were any less than king," John said between clenched teeth, his own anger barely under control, "I would allow you to keep your name and your gods. But I am king, and my people hold me to certain standards. Therefore, you _will_ be baptized and you _will_ take a new name."

Angered into silence, Efiathe did not reply. Camaris had, at some point, stepped involuntarily between the king and his betrothed as though to protect her from his wrath- or was it the other way around? Either way, a small, not-angry part of Efiathe was touched.

"Ebekah," John said suddenly.

"What?" asked Efiathe, startled into speech.

"You name shall be Ebekah. You are dismissed."

It was only as a chambermaid led Efiathe to her rooms that she let the angry tears come to her eyes, and only when she was alone in her room did she let them fall.


	4. The Wedding

**Author's Note:** Sorry it took so long! I had some writer's block, and then I went out of town (with the intention of writing like two chapters!) and didn't get anything done. But anyway, here's chapter four! Woot!

To Aeronnen: Thanks for commenting and congrats on being the first person to review that I didn't force to! (lol HoD91 & Lady Arnirien)

To Lady Arnirien and HoD91: Thanks as always!

Keep reading and reviewing please!!

Mazzie

**Chapter 4: The Wedding**

_Decander 23_

It was the eve of Aedonmansa, and Ebekah couldn't sleep. Of course, this was hardly unusual- since arriving at the Hayholt Ebekah had had trouble sleeping. And she was a bride to be married the next morning. She got up and went to the window, wrapping a dressing-robe loosely around herself. It was cold, yes, but the cold of Erkynland was hardly the cold of Hernystir, and so she was all but untroubled by it.

"My lady," came a voice from behind her, startling her, "you should get some sleep. Tomorrow is an important day."

"I've tried to sleep," Ebekah said. "I cannot. It is far more productive for me to stand here."

"At least lay down. If milady is cold, I could call for someone to relight the fire-"

"I'm fine, thank you."

She heard the soft click of the latch as the maid left. Alone again, she gazed out at the moon.

* * *

The next morning Ebekah's chambers were a flurry of activity. Chambermaids hustled in and out, bringing hot water for her bath, powder for her face, and every beauty device ever created. Ebekah herself couldn't even name them all. 

She submitted wordlessly to their treatments. She was washed, dried, and combed. She was pulled into undergarments more voluminous than any dress she had brought from Hernystir. She gripped her bedpost tightly as her corset was secured. She sat without wincing as her hair was combed and coaxed into perfect ringlets. Locks on either side were braided back until they met and tied with a white ribbon. Diamond flowers were fastened into her hair. The rest was left to hang loose down her back. Her cheeks were heavily rouged to cover her pallor, and more powder hid the bruise-like circles under her eyes, the results of her sleepless night. At last a handful of maids brought out the wedding gown. Ebekah couldn't help but gasp. Pure white, it was studded with seed pearls and diamonds. Its graceful sleeves were fitted to the elbow, then widened until the wrist, where a lacy cuff fitted them close again. The bodice was fitted, with a low square neckline lightly trimmed in lace and diamonds. The skirt was wide and lace-trimmed, beautifully embroidered in silver thread with doves and roses, and the train was nearly six feet long, also embroidered and pearl-studded. _The dress,_ Ebekah thought wryly,_ probably cost more than the rest of my wardrobe put together. (_**A/N:** Isn't that every girl's dream dress?)

Her maids helped her step gingerly into the skirt, slip her arms into the sleeves, and lace up the back with an ivory silk ribbon. To help with fitting difficulties, and in case of- Aedon forbid- tears, a flock of seamstresses flitted around nervously, but there was no need. Their careful work had paid off, and under the fastidious hand of Rachel the Dragon, who was assisting personally, not a mistake was made.

Finally the veil was brought out. The back piece would touch the floor, but for the train, while the front would reach only just past the neckline of Ebekah's gown. Like the gown, it was pearl-studded and embroidered around the edge. It was an almost comforting weight on her head, and Ebekah almost smiled. All her life she had dreamed of such a gown, of such a veil- why, then did she now only want to rip off the gown and run barefoot to Hernystir?

At last, Rachel brought out the last part of Ebekah's ensemble- a relatively simple Tree on a white ribbon. It was John's wedding gift to her, and like everything else it was lovely. All diamonds, it was perhaps three inches tall and two inches across. The metal casing of the diamonds was either naturally black or painted so- a beautiful contrast to Ebekah's white skin and the dazzling brilliance of the diamonds. (**A/N: **One of those Victorian crosses, you know) As it was fastened on, she placed her hand on it, feeling its coolness. Although it was not of her religion, it calmed her somehow, and she could gather the courage to look at herself in the mirror.

The pallor of her skin coupled with the white of the gown made her pale eyes stand out sharply. Her dark hair was like a muted stain down her back beneath the veil. She lifted it to better study her face. The chambermaids had done well powdering her face- it looked rosy, but not feverishly so, merely healthy. Her white lips, however, betrayed her nervousness.

"The lips, perhaps," she said shyly, the first she had spoken all morning, "could use some color."

Rachel nodded, sending a chambermaid for lip paint and a brush, and soon Ebekah's lips looked their normal color, if a bit redder than usual.

"She is ready," Rachel told a chambermaid as she sent her for a carriage. "Let's get her to the cathedral."

* * *

St. Sutrin's was as gaily bedecked as the Hayholt and, indeed, the entire city of Erchester. White flags waved from the empty windows of the deserted town. The mystery of where the people had gone was solved when Ebekah's carriage arrived at the church. A large crowd swarmed the outer doors, hoping for a glimpse of their king and his new queen. The carriage had to be taken around to the back of the cathedral, whereupon Ebekah was hustled into the narthex, where her train was spread out behind her and white rose petals scattered on it. She could hear organ music from behind the doors, which became louder when the doors opened to reveal her. Taking a deep breath, she began her slow walk down the long aisle to the altar.

* * *

Despite Ebekah's fears, and, indeed, the fears of everyone else present, the wedding went off without a single error. The bishop, a pompous-looking middle-aged man, read the mansa in a loud, self-important tone. Although she should really have been paying attention, Ebekah let her eyes wander, though without turning her head, and tuned the bishop out. She was acutely aware of John's hands on here, and also of Camaris behind him, standing as best man. Her eyes wandered to where she could see, from the corner of her eye, the cathedral packed with nobles from as far away as Rimmersgard. Her own family was just out of her sightline in the front pew. She slowly became conscious of John's eyes on her face and forced herself back to the bishop's words, smiling at her soon-to-be husband. 

Ebekah recited her vows perfectly, even managing to put emotion into them. She watched John carefully as he said his. Perhaps it was simply his charisma as he spoke, but Ebekah found herself thinking, _I could love this man_.

They exited the cathedral to rousing cheers from the people of Erchester. Unable to stop smiling for whatever reason, Ebekah let Camaris help her into the carriage, not even noting the warmth of his hand on hers. The carriage, a large, gold-gilded white behemoth, was jerked into motion by four pure white horses, who pulled it along the scenic route through the giddy, crowded streets of Erchester. Inside, Ebekah happily submitted to John's kisses and affections, elated with the joy of being married, overjoyed that her months of waiting, of worrying, were over at last. Surely this was the climax. Surely it would all be easier from here on out…

Woohoo! Sorry this was a long chapter with lots of boring descriptions and like NO romance. Don't worry, it'll get better...hopefully...


	5. The Wedding's Aftermath

**OMG **I am extremely sorry for not updating! I had the writer's block to end all writer's block, and then the lovely Lady Arnirien was visiting for a week and so...

I basically just wrote this to get something written...a lot of reflection and whatnot, not a lot of dialogue...basically just a boring chapter but in a few more we should be into the "good part".

Thanks as always to my lovely reviewers, HoD91 and Lady Arnirien! Hopefully I'll get another chapter up before I leave for DC next weekend.

Also, congrats to us! We've hit a hundred hits! (no pun intended, but if you take it as a pun, that's good for me too)

Read on...

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Wedding's Aftermath**

The wedding feast lasted nearly a week. Ebekah had a different gown for each night, all pure white, some silk, some taffeta, some velvet and fur-trimmed. The meals were hearty and heavy, sitting in her stomach like a stone, and she drowned herself in fine mead and ale. The alcohol kept her euphoria buzzing in her veins and blurred the enormity of what had just happened. She allowed her trepidation to fade and fully let herself go for just one week. She giggled like a schoolgirl and acted otherwise quite childish, especially next to her more stoic husband, which one day she would look back on in shame. But for one week, she was content, more content than she had been since the day she had found out she was marrying a man old enough to be her father who, moreover, was king of a powerful country, who had slain a dragon, who had banished the Sithi…

Even their wedding night could not dull Ebekah's rapture. In the months leading to the wedding, it was this single event that had tormented her, keeping her awake at night, causing her to break out in cold sweat and chills in the middle of an otherwise warm afternoon. Luckily for Ebekah, the feast came first, and so several goblets of wine had blurred the edges of the world, and John seemed to have ample experience to make up fully for Ebekah's inexperience. Against all her expectations, it was almost enjoyable.

Even when the wedding celebration was over, Ebekah's coronation prolonged the general debauchery. It happened on a cold, clear Decander afternoon, with all the nobles who had attended the wedding present. Ebekah had changed out the white that had all but become the norm for her for a more noble purple, although she still wore, as she always did now, the Tree pendant John had given her. She sat ramrod straight in the smaller, plainer throne as the bishop placed a delicately wrought silver coronet across her brow. It was quite simple- twisted silver adorned with a single diamond- but it was nicely set off by her dark hair, and the diamond shone against her forehead. At the end of the ceremony she was to select her special champion, something she had prepared for for months.

She had chosen Camaris, of course.

As she gave him a token of her respect- a small embroidered handkerchief that wasn't really hers, for she had never used it, a chambermaid turned to her friend and whispered, "Isn't it ironic that the Rose of Hernysadharc has chosen the bearer of Thorn as her champion?"

The other chambermaid stifled a giggle, as the two were not supposed to be watching and she did not want to be caught by the Dragon, and muttered something about Camaris' "thorn". The two succumbed to noisy giggles and, fearing discovery, at last snuck off quietly when a roar of applause filled the throne room.

* * *

Ebekah sank into apathy once the festivities had ended. For a while, the presence of her family was enough to bring a smile to her face, but at last they departed for Hernystir, leaving her all but alone. Camaris was still in the Hayholt, but even he left to attend to matters in Nabban, as his father's health was declining quickly. Ebekah found herself with no one to talk to, and took to wandering the lonely garden paths as she had during her engagement. 

Her one hope and joy was her upcoming visit to Hernysadharc. She clung to her promised plan with Lluth as a drowning man clings to driftwood, and it saw her through the dreary days of Jonever.

But Ebekah never visited her home in Hernystir, because that Feyever she discovered she was pregnant.

* * *

John and his subjects were elated. The king and queen had been married barely two months, and already John had an heir on the way. Once the news was announced, bells sounded all over Erkynland, and there was general celebration and joyous anticipation. 

Ebekah slipped into a state of reminiscence, her pregnancy reminding her of her months of engagement- the same trapped feeling accompanied her swelling belly. She tried to remember the carefree girl who had refused a carriage on her trip to Erchester, who rode into the Hayholt with her hair tangled and undone and her gown travel-stained. She struggled to picture the girl who had conquered her shyness to confront the world's greatest warrior, who had felt electricity at the touch of his hand. The reconciliation of that girl with the cold, apathetic woman she now was seemed impossible. She felt that by accepting her new name, she had accepted a new personality, a new identity, and that she had become a person she never would have recognized or even particularly liked. She divided her to personas into Efiathe and Ebekah. Efiathe was the quietly stubborn girl, willing to fulfill her duties to her country even if it meant sacrificing her own desires, but at the same time stuck on her morals. Ebekah was the meek, nearly silent queen, regal because of her coldness, who put on a show of joy while really she had no feelings. She felt sure the infant in her womb had caused her apathy, and for a while she all but hated it. But as the months passed and the hopeless winter became a delicate spring, she began to feel warmth toward her child at least, and certainly towards her husband, who was so kind to her always. But still the emotion felt feigned.

* * *

Camaris returned in early Yuven from Nabban. His father had pulled through and was again capable of managing his affairs, but Camaris had left his brother Leobardis to assist and take control should Benidrivis' health lapse again. 

Two days after his return, he sought out Ebekah.

He found her in the gardens, seated upon a bench in full sunlight, one hand resting on her slightly swollen belly while the other toyed with a rose in her hand. When she noticed his approach, she jumped and cried out in pain.

Camaris rushed to her side. "My lady, what is wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Ebekah smiled slightly. "It's nothing, Sir Camaris. I merely stuck myself with a thorn." The wound on her finger, when she proffered it, was all but invisible.

He let out a relieved breath. Perhaps it was a horrible, chauvinist thing to think, but he pictured her as delicate, easily bruised, and the child in her womb as more precious. Any pain, to him, might be the death of her.

"Forgive me for worrying so, my lady," he said softly, taking her hand, flipping it over, and kissing it gently.

Ebekah pulled away. "Please, Sir Camaris, you need not use such formality when we are alone."

"Of course, my- Ebekah. But I must request that you drop my title as well, so that I do not feel overly casual with you."

This drew a genuine smile. "Of course, Camaris. Please, tell me about your journey."

She placed her hand on his offered arm, and they strolled through the gardens as he regaled her with tales of Nabban and his family there.

"My brother is betrothed at last, to a young noblewoman named Nessalanta," Camaris told her. "I'm happy for him: he needs a wife."

Ebekah laughed- she too had seen Leobardis' failed attempts at flirtation with the Erkynland ladies. But her laugh was less at the joy she felt at Leobardis' good fortune than at the slight tingle she found was still in her fingertips where they rested on Camaris' arm.

"What of you, Ebekah?" Camaris asked at last. "How have you been? Are you excited for your child?"

Ebekah looked away, pretending to concentrate on a dying hydrangea. "I've been quite well," she said, still keeping her eyes averted.

But Camaris sensed something was wrong despite Ebekah's nonchalance. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She looked up at him- way up- and burst into tears. Immediately Camaris drew her over to a nearby bench, where he held her and listened as all her fears and worries poured out of her mouth. At last, she calmed herself and dried her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said, ashamed. "It's just been so hard…I feel like I can't feel anything, and that scares me. What if I can't love my child? What if I can't love John? He's so kind to me, and he loves me, I can tell."

"I wouldn't worry about not feeling anything, my lady," Camaris said, half-smiling. "It seems as though you have plenty of emotion. And just worrying about loving your child shows you love him already. And John- that will come. In fact, the only real change I see in you is that your charming blush hasn't made a single appearance in all the time I've spoken with you."

He brushed a tear off her cheek, and- to her shame- she blushed. "There," Camaris said, laughing. "You're back to normal." And Ebekah could hardly help but join in his laughter.

* * *

Like I said, extreeeeeemely boring chapter...R&R anyway, please!! 

Also, if you're a fan of the TV show _Supernatural_, please check out **HuntressofDarkness91**She has one humor story, a Weechester oneshot, and _Love Bites,_ her "real" fanfic. Her stuff's pretty awesome so check it out! (See, I told you I'd endorse you!) After you're done reading her stuff, I have a _Supernatural_ oneshot, _Supernatural Angst_, which I would also suggest you check out cuz it's pretty awesome.

All for now

--The lovely Mazzie--


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